And Baby Makes Ten
by mecedeme
Summary: Lizzie's pet's going to have a kitten! Third in the Lizzie Series.
1. Chapter 1

AN: She's back! I'm on holidays so updating is sporadic, but I'll do my best!

A big huge thanks to all my reviewers. Please, if you see anything that can be improved in my writing let me know. This has become a wonderful obsession and I'm thrilled you're along for the ride.

* * *

Jordan knelt over the toilet, feeling totally wretched. There's something humiliating about vomiting, along with the unpleasant nausea and discomfort.

She shook her way to the faucet and poured herself a glass of water.

"Brrrrrrrrrrrup!"

"Hey, Liz. How come you didn't get morning sickness?"

Liz regarded her pet with disdain. She couldn't figure out what all this fuss was about. Fur balls happen, she thought. Get over it.

"At least I don't have Woody in my face this time." Jordan sometimes wanted to throw him out. She was perfectly capable of handling a little nausea, and she didn't need him going mother-hen.

She splashed water on her face and wove her way back to bed. She spoke to the empty apartment, "Just a few more minutes, Garret." Then she fell into her covers once again.

He'd been patient, believing she had a stomach virus all week. She'd have to tell him sooner or later, but that would wait until she could get through a whole ten minutes on her feet without retching. She'd hoped to be back at work by now but it was beginning to look like another day trying to keep down a few crackers and some juice.

As Lizzie started to curl up on her back, Jordan asked her, "Why the hell do they call this morning sickness? It's 24/7 sickness. Oh, Liz, right there feels good, now don't move…"

The two of them drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile, in the closet, six pairs of eyes were just starting to pop open and wonder what fun would be found today, besides their siblings' tails and ears.

A few hours later, Jordan woke up with a pile of little fuzz balls snuggled into her back. Mama fuzz ball was curled up next to her 'pet', content with the world. In the doorway, Woody smiled at his family. Beautiful pregnant wife, six eight-week-old kittens and a mother cat. He silently opened his cell phone and aimed the camera…

"Drop the camera or die." Jordan's voice was powerful, even when she was sick.

"Aw, Jordan, you guys look so great. This'll be a great one for the baby's scrapbook…"

"Too bad the kid would grow up without a father…"

"Yeah… " The phone snapped shut. "So what have you eaten? Did you keep anything down?"

"Nothing, and no. And yes, you can get me some toast. No tea, but a little apple juice might work."

Woody fretted. "You can't grow a baby without fuel."

She groaned. "Toast. Now."

He got the toast and juice, set it on a little tray with a single daisy.

Jordan felt the bed shift as he sat beside her, and she forced herself to sit up. "Who thought this pregnancy thing was a good idea? 'Cause so far it's not so fun."

Woody looked at her with sincere pity. He would gladly take this on himself for her, but short of that he'd make sure she had everything she needed, everything she wanted. Everything.

He said, "The doctor told you it'll pass. You've got to get through this stage. Hey, is there anything I can pick up on my way home? Soup? Ginger Ale?"

"No, aside from a really strong anti-nauseant that I can't have anyway, there's nothing I want." She firmly took his hand. "Stop fussing! Can't you see it drives me crazy?" Her frustration was mounting, and she couldn't seem to communicate that to him.

He deflated. He was just trying to do the right thing by his wife and child. Why should that drive her crazy? He saw what negligent and abusive men had done to their families. He'd even seen women abuse their loved ones. His family was going to be cared for, damn it.

"Let me take care of you for once. After all, it's not just you anymore, we have to think about him, too." Woody kissed her abdomen gently.

Whereupon Jordan leapt from the bed to regurgitate her toast into the toilet.

Woody was close behind, holding her hair, mopping her brow with a cool cloth. He was there when she started to shake. He caught her when she collapsed…


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - I keep forgetting to disclaim. So. All I own is the cat. Other people own CJ and it's various characters.

The coup has begun, and if you check out Crossing Jordan Encyclopedia online, you'll see where it's going to happen! VS7 - this September - don't miss it!

* * *

As light filtered through her lashes, waves of nausea flowed through her. She felt strong arms supporting her thin frame, and saw a blur of lights and images. She was conscious but didn't have the strength to open her eyes fully. Besides, when she did she felt worse. 

Woody kept asking how she was. A weak, croaking moan was her response. His voice broke through the nausea and vertigo, insisting that she'd be just fine. She was vaguely aware of the car and siren. If she wasn't so sick she'd have laughed at his over-reaction…

…but she knew he wasn't over reacting this time. A cold fear hit her stomach, right where the baby lay. She struggled to move a hand over her abdomen. Her body wasn't responding very well. Was her brain so starved of electrolytes that it threw her into seizures? Was it the meningioma left over after the surgery? Or had she merely given in to exhaustion?

Why couldn't she just be unconscious and let Woody handle all this – wait, she couldn't let Woody handle it. The baby was her responsibility and she was a strong, responsible woman…

Woody's arms tightened around her again, and she left the car. The lights suddenly brightened, and the tension in the air became an efficient hum. People were asking her things but she was too exhausted to talk to them. Gradually, a sweet peacefulness slowed down her frightened mind, calmed the tense nerves and she drifted into forgetful sleep.

* * *

When Jordan had relaxed into his arms he didn't realize at first that she had fainted. Suddenly it dawned on him that she wasn't just relaxed – she was sick. And she needed help he couldn't give. 

He raced to the car and gently placed his wife on the back seat. He rushed to the hospital, sirens and lights blaring. He was uncomfortably reminded of another swift rush to the hospital… But he wouldn't think about that right now because he had to focus on the moment, on his family.

At the emergency room he gave Jordan to the staff, mechanically responding to their questions. Yes, she was sick, it was morning sickness. Eight weeks, she was two months along. Yes, this was her first. She hadn't seemed to keep a meal down for a long time now. Yes, regular medical care, vitamins. Yes, planned pregnancy.

Kind eyes and a gentle touch on his arm alerted him. He needed to give the professionals space. They'd given her a sedative, safe for the baby he'd been assured. They also had an iv started, nourishing Jordan at the cellular level. The kind eyes led him to a nearby sitting room. He sat. Being seated was all he could do.

He saw the phone.

Thirty minutes later, Jordan was in intensive care. She was still sedated, still receiving intravenous, something or others. Woody couldn't remember all the words and procedures that had been explained to him. He was allowed to stand by her side, willing the very soul in his own body to move through their linked hands to support his precious girls.

Girls. Somewhere in his mind he smiled, but it didn't touch his face. Girls. He would be very surprised if their baby was not a girl. In that moment a few tears squeezed out, as that smile found its way to his lips.

"Well, that means that there are two Jordans fighting this thing. We'll be OK!"

Beyond the window, there was a gathering of worried souls. They'd rushed to his side, of course. Jordan would kill him later for calling everyone, but for now he needed them. So they stood, feeling helpless but offering more help than they knew. He could stand a little longer, hold her hand a little tighter knowing they were there, on the other side of the glass. And because he felt them, he knew Jordan could too.

Garret felt it his duty to hassle the staff for information. Real information, not 'let's wait and see'. When he'd finished with the emergency doctor, he joined the throng in front of ICU.

"Everything should be fine," he said in response to the worried eyes. "Just a minute…" He walked into the room and touched Woody. Worried, but hopeful eyes met him. Garret gently said something to him, and the two left the room.

"What have you heard?" Nigel was pale.

Garret faced the group. "It's hyperemesis gravidarum." He looked at Woody and Lily who'd made confused faces. "Severe morning sickness. It occurs in about 4 cases out of a thousand. Jordan never was an average woman…"

Bug was holding Maddy in a tummy-pouch, his hands protectively wrapped around her head and back. "But was there any damage to the fetus? Or to Jordan?"

Garret scrubbed his head. "The best the doctor could give me was 'probably not'. In cases like this the baby is the last one to suffer because the placenta draws nutrition and hydration from the mother. Jordan was disoriented when she arrived, but he thinks it was caused by the severe nausea. He's got a feeding tube into her intestine, and the IV is running non-stop. She'll be here for a while, but she should be OK."

"Thank God! I'll go call Kate."

Woody stopped Nigel. "Hey, could you call Cal and Max for me?" He handed Nige his phone. "They're both on speed dial." Nigel smiled his agreement as Woody returned to his wife. There had been some very good things going on in Jordan's life.

Garret, Bug and Lily went to the waiting room to re-group. The emergency doctor had said he'd be reducing the sedative and Jordan would be waking up soon.

"I don't think it would be a good idea if we're all here when that happens," said Lily. "And for God's sake, nobody bring flowers!"

The others smirked. They'd had too much experience with this in recent months.

A nurse poked her head in the door. "Dr. Macy? Dr. Cavanaugh is awake, and she's asking for Garret. That's you, right?"

"Yes. I'm coming…" He looked at the others. "Look, why don't you go back to the morgue. I'll call when she's up to more visitors."

Reluctantly, Lily nodded. As they stood, she hugged Garret, letting some of the worry go. Garret said nothing, just drew a thin line with his lips and went in to Jordan and her husband.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Oh, hey, I don't own anything but we've borrowed the characters over at Virtual Season Seven and when we're done fixing as much as we can, we'll put them back. Closure, baby!

Coming September 30 to a computer near you. VS7, Crossing Jordan.

Meanwhile, back at the Fanfiction...

* * *

Bedrest. Bedrest.

Jordan repeated the despised word in the part of her brain reserved for being really pissed off. She couldn't do anything about… well, anything. Which was even worse than bedrest.

Bedrest.

One month of bedrest was her sentence. Her punishment for endangering the life of her child and her child's mother. If she'd come in sooner, they'd said…

At first the punishment matched her guilty, depressed mood. She deserved to be punished. She hadn't left this bed for two weeks.

Now, however, she was feeling better. Her strength was returning, she realized the baby was almost certainly fine, and the therapies her OB had prescribed were effective. To while away the increasingly boring hours, Jordan found a victim to attempt that perfect murder she now had plenty of time to plan.

As she sat there plotting, the object of her so-sweet thoughts bounced into the room. The bubble-headed nurse was dressed in scrubs with little pink happy faces all over. She looked like one of those people who had made an adorable child, all pudgy and cute, but then grew up. Well, she grew up on the outside, at least.

Jordan hadn't even tried to remember this one's name. Most of the nursing staff were professional, and respected the fact that Jordan was, indeed, Dr. Cavanaugh-Hoyt. She was on a first name basis with them. This lady, however, had apparently received her nursing training from the University of cracker-jack box.

"Hello, Joe, what'ya know. Three o'clock shift change, so I'll be leaving you to Nurse Jaleesa. Now hold still, this won't hurt…"

Jordan glanced at the equipment to take her vitals, and dryly replied, "I can show you how to make it hurt." Her comment was rewarded with a fake, high pitched giggle and a smile that stopped immediately above Bubblehead's mouth.

"Oh, Joe. You are so funny sometimes."

Jordan rolled her eyes up into her head and concentrated on keeping her blood pressure down. If she wasn't pregnant…

"Okey-dokey, your vitals are fine, I've got all your meals charted, have you piddled or gone number two in the past two hours?"

"Yes, one time, both." She was becoming nauseated for a very different reason than hyperemesis gravidarum, so she tried monosyllables. Maybe that'd get rid of this idiot faster.

The pen scratched a few more things on the chart. "The yummy-cookie lady will be around in a few minutes, if you're tummy's empty. So, Joe, we'll see you tomorrow, K? Be good."

"Bye-bye," Jordan wiggled her fingers. If this woman was here tomorrow, she was transferring to a new hospital. In Canada. Or France.

A few moments passed, or so she thought, when she sleepily opened her eyes to see two fuzzy little heads sniffing her nose.

She shrieked, and batted at the huge bugs.

"Whoa, there! Bad idea, I guess…" Woody grabbed Miller and Bud before they flew at the wall.

Jordan's head thudded back to the pillow. In a moment, she had collected herself, remembering a dead rat. "No, no, it's – Woody, it's sweet! Just warn me next time, OK? I was thinking vampire bats…"

"How could you say that?" As Jordan pushed a button and raised the head of her bed, he returned the kids to her lap. This time when they climbed up to her chin, Jordan smiled. Woody could see her relax – somewhere along the way, she had become a 'cat person.' The two fuzz-balls were tired from their exciting trip in Woody's pocket. He'd had to whistle pretty loudly as he quickly sauntered past the nursing station, but operation 'Visit Jordan' had succeeded. They curled up in her hair, one on each shoulder, and purred themselves to sleep.

Woody smirked. "If Paris Hilton saw that, women would be wearing kittens on their ears, instead of dogs in their purses."

"Don't talk about annoying people, Woody."

He stood up to gently stroke each little head, then kiss Jordan lightly. "Nurse bubble head again? You never did suffer fools gladly."

She gazed around at her jail. "I need to get the hell out of here, she's on morning shift when I'm awake. I'm a doctor, for crying out loud, not a four year old! I know what a bowel movement is, she doesn't have to call it 'number two'. And the morgue is getting busy…"

"How do you know that?" Woody frowned, everyone had agreed not to discuss the heavy workload with her.

"They're visiting me alone instead of two or three at a time. And they're talking less and less about work. Nigel didn't even mention the morgue this morning. He knows I can tell when he's lying, so he avoided the topic altogether."

He sighed. Her deductive skills defeated him once again, so he pulled out the trump card. "Jordan, our daughter needs you to be healthy."

"If it weren't for the baby... I'd be out of here so fast – and I'd have killed that condescending idiot of a nurse…"

He knew this was a relatively safe topic, so he encouraged her. "Have you figured out what her name is yet?"

"Hell no! Not until she quits calling me 'Joe.'" Miller started purring very loudly and snuggled around a little. She wasn't pleased that Mommy's pet was being so loud. "OK, OK, Miller." Jordan spoke in a much softer voice and petted the little cat.

"And **that** is why I risked smuggling contraband in here – look at the effect those two have on you!"

Jordan almost pouted at her husband. He knew she had to be desperate. "Woody, when can I go home? I promise I'll stay in bed, I'll have cats all over me. I haven't thrown up for four days, I'm doing number one and two, and… God, help me, I'm talking like that insufferable woman!"

He smiled. "I understand, I really do." His hand empathetically stroked her arm. "Dr. Wiseman said she'd drop by this afternoon. You can beg when she gets here, OK?"

"Do you think we should hide the kids?"

Woody smirked and shook his head. "Nah, she's a smart lady. She knows a good thing when she sees it."

"Ah, you're buttering me up before I'm completely in the room. Very smooth, Detective!" Doctor Carole Wiseman came to Jordan's bedside and wryly smiled.

"Hmm, don't look now but you've got two new appendages on your shoulder, Jordan."

"Shhh, they get kind of prickly when they wake up."

"They're beautiful cats. Actually, are you selling them? I was going to the SPCA in a few weeks to get a kitten for my daughter's birthday. These little guys seem like they'd fit the bill…"

"They're ten weeks old, first set of shots, really adorable and lively, and I'll give you one, hell, I'll give you all six if you spring me from this place!"

Carole closed her eyes a fraction and smiled. "If I got stuck on bedrest in a hospital with nurse Bi… I mean, uh, in a hospital bed, I'd go insane. Let me check your chart."

"You know my day nurse, don't you." Jordan threw her OBGYN a dirty look. "How could you subject me to another day of 'Okey-dokey'?"

Carole had to remain professional so she turned her back on Jordan. This particular nurse offered patients a great incentive to get better and go home, especially patients of some intelligence. Carole flipped open the chart.

Jordan held her breath, and Woody's hand, as she watched her doctor's face hoping for a good sign. Her hopes lifted when she saw an approving nod.

"Well, Jordan, it is my professional opinion that you…" Here she paused for dramatic effect. Jordan swore at her, and she and Woody chuckled. "…are still in need of at least two or three weeks more bedrest…"

"NO!" Her facial expression mimicked the desperate vocals.

"Just wait a second." Carole continued. "I was saying that you need two or three more weeks, but you can do it at home, as long as you keep a chart recording your eating habits. We'll see you weekly to keep a watch on your weight gain. There is a chance the nausea could return, so I figure let's get you out of here while you can. And don't go to work! I have spies, I'll know!"

Jordan's hand raised straight up as she joyfully pumped the air. Miller and Bud immediately awoke and started getting 'prickly'. "Thank you so much, Carole!" She immediately untangled the kittens from her hair and gave them to Woody, then got up and started getting her things.

Carole's eyebrows knit together. "You're not touching the litter box, are you?"

Woody fielded that one. "Nope. I read 'What to Expect When You're Expecting', and I learned all about that one. Did you know they have these pictures of what the baby looks like at this gestational age? She's a little peanut right now!"

Carole smiled at the proud daddy. As long as he was around, she knew the headstrong medical examiner would take care of herself. Or more correctly, be taken care of despite herself.

"OK, make an appointment with my office for next week, you have my home phone number if anything happens." She picked up Miller and regarded her, nose to nose. "I've always wanted a calico. I'll take this one, if it's alright. Alicia's birthday is in two weeks. Could you bring her to your appointment that week? I'll pay for her, just name your price."

Jordan felt a ball in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the pregnancy. "Miller's a real pain in the neck, you may want to... They're not ready to leave home yet, anyway, so we'll let you know."

Carole hid the wry smile. Giving away those kittens wouldn't be easy for Jordan.

"Sure they are!" Woody blindly joined in the conversation. "I gave away two already, and they're doing fine! A couple of secretaries at work… What?"


	4. Chapter 4

AN/ Finally! To make a really long story short - I'm busy! I haven't forgotten about Lizzie, though!

And don't forget to tell all your CJ friends at all your CJ websites and CJ chatboards that CJVS7 is coming September 30th at CrossingJordanEncyclopedia!

Contrary to a rumour out there, it's not an event sponsored by CJ's actual staff/actors. It's a creation of seven fanfiction writers, four artists, a PR department and various technicians. Take a look at Nina LaVogue's stuff, most of her pilots are part of the VS7 team. It's not just your average fanfiction, it's really a work of love!

On with the show...

* * *

The drive home was tensely quiet.

As was the ride in the elevator. Even the kittens seemed to feel Jordan's black mood. Oppressive, really. Woody tried to convince her to tell him what was wrong, but she wouldn't open her mouth. His years observing this beautiful woman stood him in good stead – he wisely stopped prying, and waited for Old Faithful to blow it's top. It would come, he knew, and if he was patient and unobtrusive it would be easier on everyone when it happened.

The eruption occurred soon after they entered the apartment. The welcoming committee was just two kittens. Liz calmly jumped off the kitchen counter, as if she was allowed to be there, and sauntered over to greet her pet. She chirupped, but oddly enough her Jordan stood there, looking at the little ones but not moving. Woody pulled two kittens from his pockets and returned them to the little pride. The four siblings bit each other's ears and tails while Lizzie sniffed them and washed two little faces to get the weird smells off. Liz sensed something big was coming, so she picked up a kitten by it's little scruffy neck and headed for the hills.

It started quietly. "How could you… I didn't even get to say good-bye. I'll never see them again. I've lost two more…" Jordan caught Woody with her eyes, the rest of her tiredly leaned on the table. "And I was **not** ready for everyone to know about the pregnancy! I mean, I thought you knew me… maybe I was wrong, but you didn't even give me the consideration of a warning before you announced to the whole world that I'm going to be really fat really soon…"

With that, Jordan's voice choked off and she fled to the bedroom. She stormed around, finally banging her way to the bathroom. A confused Woody studiously avoided her. He'd known she'd be upset that he told everyone about the baby, but she hadn't said anything until now. And as for the kittens – they'd made the deal with those secretaries before Jordan went to the hospital. She'd been grateful to find two good homes! Once again, he decided to remain quiet. Hopefully she'd blow herself out like a storm…

Ten minutes later, she stomped back through the living room, looking for her small cosmetic bag. She'd been humiliated when she had been told it was the only thing she was allowed to carry. She grabbed it, clearly furious, and returned to the bedroom. If the door was the kind that could be slammed…

So much for giving her space. Woody thought to himself that it was time for plan B.

He'd dedicated himself to being a kind, caring husband and father. He deeply felt the responsibility to his girls. With a deep breath, and a quick prayer, he 'calmly wandered' to the bedroom. He wryly thought that he now knew how Daniel felt entering the lion's den…

He pushed the door slowly open. She was sitting on the side of the bed, hands on her knees, staring at nothing. Her face and even her eyes seemed pale. He worried she was sick again, but she wasn't running to the bathroom. Even in this state she was cute in her over-size tee shirt. You couldn't see a baby bulge yet, at least not from this distance, but he imagined a huge belly.

"What the hell are you smiling at?"

"You, Jordan. Aren't I allowed to smile at my pregnant wife?"

"No. Not right now. I'm not… just be careful."

Right. Well, that didn't help.

"OK, I have to ask. What's wrong?"

She responded. Loudly. "What – you mean you don't know? I told you! I am suffering real loss, here! I lost my time to be quietly pregnant, to keep a **good** secret, to be… To be **me** for a little while longer! Now I've lost two kittens. I lost weeks in that damned hospital. Weeks I should have been enjoying my freedom! Don't you realize? I had the beginning of my pregnancy ruined! It's not something I can get back."

Again, nothing made sense. He decided to apologize – that always made things better.

Sitting down beside her, gently allowing her space but close enough to support her, he said, "I'm so sorry. If I'd known you wanted to see the cats again…" He got no further.

A flood of tears stopped his apology. He put his arms around his weeping wife, not knowing what else to do.

"I'm just so tired!" She sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm a terrible mother, I can't even take care of the cats, you need to call everyone to support you because I'm out of it – I'm just not good at this domestic stuff! I'm going to screw it all up…"

"Don't do that! It's not your fault you got sick. The cats are fine, and as for me calling…"

She flew off his shoulder, pushing him away. "Just, don't! I'm just – I don't know what I am! This isn't the way I planned…" Her face landed on her fists.

Slowly, Woody responded, "What. Can. I. Do?" His frustration was obvious. He had somehow become her emotional punching bag.

From behind her clenched fists, she muttered, "I don't need you to do anything. You had to give the kittens away, I know that. We can't keep them. I just wish I could have hugged them one more time – Oh, Lord, help me! They were just stupid cats! We can't keep seven cats! And you had to call the morgue, I couldn't come in to work. They needed to know… For some, weird reason, I really want to hit you!"

She seemed to be approaching reasonable, even if her emotions were royally messed up. Somewhere in there was his smart wife. Somewhere…

She was in desperate tears again, mourning the loss of a deep, personal relationship with Sam and Guinness. Guinness was the little Irish fighter – just like her Dad. Sam was a pretty thing. She would miss them both so much!

"I'm so sorry" Her voice shrank to a small ringing sound. "I miss those stupid animals… and I can't surprise everyone with a pregnancy announcement… I'm just so… sad… and I'm really pissed off at the same time… God!"

He still didn't really know was happening in her head. She was repeating herself – sort of. So, he went with his gut. It had served him well for his whole career…

Lizzie sat at a safe distance, washing her face. She couldn't help but wonder why he didn't wash himself as well. Clearly, if there was a time for self-washing, it was now. Instead, he helped her pet lie down in the bed. Then he turned off the lights and wrapped his arms around her. Lizzie took her cue and hopped up. If he wasn't going to wash himself or Jordan – which was what one did when calming down – curling up in a kitty pile was clearly a good second best. She sauntered onto her pet's shaking body and curled up in Jordan's curvy middle, head on her hip.

Jordan's sobs slowed down, the jerking hiccoughs gradually ceased and she slipped into deep, even breathing. Woody stayed until she rolled over, away from his arms, dislodging Liz from her sleeping perch. Jordan was resting, at last.

He looked at her with loving concern. He thought about what the actual labor and birth would be like, then decided not to think about that right now. He murmured a prayer for his girls, and lowered his feet to the floor. He wanted to get all her things put away and prepare a light meal for Jordan to wake up to. As he rounded the end of the bed, however, he was attacked by four kamikaze fighters, flying through the air, ears back and weapons unsheathed…


	5. Chapter 5

Surprise! This chapter just happened - one of those quick ones. We're heading out for the weekend, and I have tons of work to prepare for teaching in a couple of weeks so I don't know when I'll get back to Liz and her pets. Enjoy this one, until then. BTW, this part has been autobiographical. Any woman who's been pregnant knows how crazy you can get...

* * *

Woody sat in the break room at the morgue. Odd, he thought, how he always seemed to end up here when he was confused. His sore foot was on the chair in front of him. Who knew how much a kitten scratch could hurt when it got infected? The doctor worried that it would be serious, but it turned out to be just an infected scratch.

Things seemed to have settled down in the few days since… since he brought her home from the hospital. He felt guilty when she had thanked him for being so level-headed and calm. He sure as hell didn't feel level headed, he'd felt like screaming. How could an intelligent medical doctor completely lose it like that? He simply didn't understand it, and he didn't understand his wife. Not that he ever had. He knew where she was coming from, he got most of her issues – but that wasn't the same as understanding, especially when pregnancy hormones got thrown into the mix.

He just kept imagining her face when she'd said she wanted to hit him. But all he had done was… What had he done, anyway? They'd agreed to give away the kittens. Soon they'd get rid of one more, then there was just one left to pawn off on someone here at the morgue, perhaps. They'd keep one, like they'd planned. Her apartment was plenty big enough for two cats. For now, anyway. They'd have to get a new place before too long; his daughter would want her own room.

A wry smile touched his lips as he remembered that he only had a gut feeling it would be a girl. He hadn't asked Jordan if she wanted to know the baby's sex before the birth. He didn't like to bring up topics more in-depth than how much butter she wanted on her toast.

Garret walked in to fill his coffee. As he turned around, a knowing smile crinkled his eyes. He'd been in that very chair, once, trying to figure out what the hell he'd gotten himself into.

He snickered a bit as he sat opposite the dad-to-be. "That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea."

Garret's eyebrow quirked. "Jordan. Hormones. It boggles the mind." He just shook his head.

"And the cats! I gave away two while she was in the hospital. You'd have thought I drowned them – she knew the ladies I gave 'em to, we had it set up before she got sick. Then there was that thing about calling you guys when she was in ICU… It's only two months into this – how the hell are we going to survive another seven? She'll kill me before I get to see the baby!"

Garret nodded. " Jordan's never done anything the easy way. It's not likely she'll start now." He stood up, a look of sympathy on his face. "For what it's worth, most women have mood swings during pregnancy. She'll get back to normal eventually." He paused. "Whatever the hell normal is…" He gave Woody one more sad headshake as he left.

Woody's eyes closed. Great. He felt so much better.

* * *

Bug was explaining to Nigel, for the third time, the meaning of a particular pupa he found in a particular orifice of the body they were working on. Woody limped into autopsy, looking for some information on his latest case. He briefly thought how odd it was that life continued to roll on as usual, even when things weren't usual at all.

"Hey, guys. What've you got for me?"

Nigel looked at his wounded, exhausted friend, and once more Woody saw a sympathetic headshake. "Oh, Woodrow. What is she putting you through? I mean, one would expect a certain degree of emotional upset, but," he wryly laughed "- Let's just say I'm glad it's you and not me, Luv!"

Bug couldn't keep quiet. "I hope **she** makes it to the hospital for the labour – they have restraints on those beds…"

Woody held up his hands. "Please – I don't need any more encouragement! Just tell me what you know about this guy."

Nigel replied. "This unfortunate young man seems to have met his maker due to an accidental fall in the forest behind his home."

Bug butted in. "Yes, but this pupa casing puts the time of death…"

Nigel butted right back. "Who cares if the man died instantly or lingered a few hours? Is that information going to help the widow? The man fell, knocked his head and died. Beyond that…"

Woody thanked the two of them and, not sure they'd heard him, he turned and left. He was relieved this had turned out to be accidental, he had enough on his plate right now. This unexpected break would mean he could go home early…

The guilt hit him hard when he realized he really didn't want to go home right now… He loved Jordan. He loved her passion, her craziness, her drive for the truth. It was the hormones he didn't love so much. He mentally kicked himself and walked to the elevator. He always knew marriage to Jordan Cavanaugh would never be dull.

Flowers. He'd get her flowers on the way home. What woman didn't love flowers when she was feeling down?

* * *

"Flowers? I'm not dead!"

That's it, he decided he could do nothing right. Real anger tinged his voice. "Jordan, can't you just accept these in the spirit I'm giving them? I am trying to do what I can, but it isn't easy!"

Jordan's head bent into her hands for a moment, then she took a breath and met his eyes. "You… You're right." She took the flowers and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Woody." She got up off the couch where she'd spent her day, walked to the kitchen and put the flowers in a simple water glass. She bit back the comment that one of the cats would have it knocked over before morning.

Woody didn't know if he should ask how she'd been or not. Once again he went with his gut. He walked up behind her as she was putting the flowers on the table. Gently kneading her shoulders, he asked, "How was your day?"

She visibly relaxed under his strong hands. "Boring. I've still got a week and a half bed rest ahead of me, and I don't think I can handle it."

"Too bad I can't join you… a week and a half in bed… Did the doctor say if it would be OK to… you know?"

She turned and laced her fingers behind his neck, one eyebrow arched in a smirk. "Normally "you know" isn't a problem during pregnancy, but in my case, I have to wait until this bed rest thing is over with." She moulded herself to him as they shared a deep kiss. Her nails dragged gently over his scalp as she enjoyed this quiet moment.

"Another week?" The desperation in his voice was heart breaking. She smirked. Poor dear. An idea broke into her mind. She couldn't have sex right now, but that didn't mean… Her smirk smouldered and her voice dropped.

"Why, Detective, what do you want?"

She could barely make out his reply. She thought he'd said, "You!", but he was buried in her shoulder. She took a step back, deftly avoiding someone's tail.

"Give me five minutes. Get two wine glasses, fill mine with milk. Then come in. Five minutes!" She allowed a finger to pull gently on the edge of one of her lips as she turned.

Confusion is just my new way of life, thought Woody. He knew he would like whatever she'd planned, so he followed orders carefully. He tried to avoid watching through the glass panels, and almost completely succeeded. She was changing…

At five minutes, he pushed open the door and was greeted by Jordan, in a push-up bra and matching panties. She'd even put on stockings and heels! He handed her the champagne from a shaky hand, and downed the milk. She laughed and put the glass down.

She pulled him over to the bed. "I can't get into anything myself, so you'll have to look but not touch. But that doesn't mean I can't… help you."

Miller sat beside her Mommy, gazing at the bed. Mommy's pets were doing strange things again, and she couldn't figure out… wait! That blanket near the floor – there had to be something in there making it move… Miller's tiny little butt wiggled as Lizzie proudly watched her daughter attack the offending blanket. Miller would make an excellent mouser. Her tiny claws latched onto the blanket and she swung around for a little while until she got bored. No mice here. So she kept climbing.

Woody sighed in contentment. He had a perfect life! Beautiful wife, beautiful daughter on the way, beautiful cats… "Hey, Miller!" The kitten pounced on his finger he wiggled for her. He smiled at her. She was a pretty black and white, with a white face except for a large black patch on her left eye that extended over her head. Woody couldn't remember why he'd been upset or confused.

Jordan smiled up at him from his shoulder. One week, and she'd show him how a pregnant woman could become a sex goddess – before she became a whale, at least. Until then, a bottle of massage oil helped her hands do marvelous things! She loved this man so much – just now he was lying naked in her bed, playing with a beautiful kitten, his muscles rippling… She didn't deserve…

The tears dripped onto his chest, alerting him to her crying. "What's…"

He looked at her and stopped in mid-sentence. She was smiling, with tears pouring out her eyes. Oh, right, confusion. Now he remembered. "Uh, what now?"

She smiled up at him, brushing the tears from one cheek while he brushed the other cheek. "I love you. So much!"

He shook his head and wrapped an arm around her. They fell asleep, with little Miller curled up on Woody's chest and Jordan's head resting on his shoulder.


	6. Chapter 6

AN – Hey, folks, in between all the other stuff I'm busy with, I couldn't leave Jordan at home with all those hormones and kittens. I have to apologize to my reviewers from the last week or so, I've been all over the province. I really love to reply to them all, so I'll give you all a generic, "thanks for the review!" this time. The new school year starts for us teachers tomorrow here, so I'll update when I can.

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"You want to, and you know it."

"It is tempting…"

"Come on… Live a little!"

"But this isn't a little thing, Jordan…"

"It's really no big deal! People do it all the time, and they love it!"

Lily rolled her eyes. Jordan had been trying to get rid of this one, last kitten for a few days. Since she came back to work, actually. It was becoming annoying.

"It's not me, it's Bug! He's convinced Maddy would be in danger."

"You're not trying hard enough! C'mon, Lily, use those feminine wiles…"

"You're joking, right? I am nursing an 8 month old child. I still have 25 pounds of baby fat to lose. I haven't had any 'wiles' for over a year."

"Maybe I can talk to Bug, convince him that an animal would be a good educational addition to Maddy's family."

"Um, maybe not the best idea, let me work on him. Oh, look, I have a call to make, the funeral home just got back off lunch break, and I have to get them…"

Jordan watched as her latest mark flew the coop. The first three kittens had almost found homes for themselves. Once she was back on more even emotional footing, the urge to rid herself of unnecessary responsibilities became stronger. Unfortunately, no one seemed to want the black kitten.

Jordan thought to herself that she simply needed to be more persistent. Ah, there went Nigel…

Nigel saw her out of the corner of his eye. He'd been successfully avoiding her since she'd returned to work. He had hugged her, genuinely glad to see her again, but then he'd overheard her first sales-pitch to Emmy in regards to a kitten, and he made himself scarce. He was a sucker for a sad story and a lost waif…

Damn! She saw him! Find something important to do, Lad! Nigel spoke to himself urgently. He didn't want a cat. But somehow he knew if he allowed Jordan to show him those pictures, he'd be lost. So, she was coming… right, into the men's room…

He neatly exited trace the moment she entered via the other door, and got into the men's room before she knew what'd happened. His self-congratulations were short-lived, however, when Jordan walked in behind him.

"Having gender identification issues, are we?" He figured playing it cool would be the best. Show no fear!

"What's going on! Pregnancy isn't contagious, you know, Nige!"

"I know, I've been busy. Now can you please run along so I can make use of the facilities?" Maybe that would work.

Nope.

"I have pitched this cat to everyone here, except Garret of course. It's your turn!"

Nigel covered his ears. "NOT LISTENING! LA LA LA!" Ha. That stopped her dead in her tracks. Now, she just had to leave…

Instead of leaving, she hauled out the pictures. Blast. He could see the end was near…

"Please, just look at Busch's little black face! Check out the white spot on his little chest! He's the friskiest one Liz had, a real vampire. You could get him a little Goth collar – you'd be best buds!"

A look of trepidation upon his face, Nigel took the picture in his fingers and promptly melted. He'd known this would happen – wait! That white spot – was it a yin/yang? He gazed into the photograph's eyes, and he knew it was love at first sight.

"Damn. Fine, but I'm not naming him Busch! That's just a little too… rude, even for me."

Jordan launched into his arms. This was the moment Woody chose to enter the men's room. He stopped for a moment. "Hey, Nige. You know you have a pregnant woman stuck to your shirt?"

Nigel rolled his eyes. "Yeah, apparently this is the ritual when someone agrees to take a kitten."

Woody looked thrilled, then scared. He remembered how hard it was on her when she'd lost the first two. But now she was feeling better, right? She seemed alright…

She backed away and spoke. "Woody'll bring him in tomorrow, he's ready to go!"

Woody spoke. "Jordan. This is the men's room. You are not a man. This is not your room. You are embarrassing your husband."

"Fine, I accomplished what I came in for. See ya, guys."

She sauntered out. Nigel looked at the picture once again, and Woody sighed. He shook Nigel's hand.

"Thanks, Nige. I mean I'm sorry she blind-sided you like that, but it'll be easier for her to give one to you."

"I don't know, I think she's done me a favour. Look at this little guy. Check out that white spot – it's got a spiritual quality, don't you think? And those eyes – that is a very ancient soul." Nigel looked up, and got an excited look. "I've got to go shopping – I'll need the best food… a collar… a kitty bed… I wonder if they make cat carriers for a motor bike?"

Woody walked away. Yep, Nigel was a goner.

The next day, Woody came in with Busch in his pocket. It was a tight fit, the cat was getting larger, but he'd worn a jacket with larger pockets. He found Nigel at his desk, surrounded by cat paraphernalia. Jordan was playing with a little mouse on a spring. Nigel was fidgeting with a back-pack type thing.

"Uh, this stuff is supposed to be at your house, Nige." It was worse than Woody thought.

"Au contraire, this is to be my little one's home away from home, at least until he's bigger. I've got this little pen, here, so he won't go wandering about, it will be set up with all the comforts of home. I've got this backpack affair to carry him to and fro… Have you got him?" Nigel's eyes lit up.

Woody lifted Busch out of his pocket, which wasn't easy considering the kitten had latched on to the lining with his claws.

This was Jordan's moment. She stepped between the men, gently taking Busch in her hands. She walked a few feet away, her back to them. They wisely stood in respectful silence, prepared for anything. After a moment, Jordan unceremoniously dumped Busch into Nigel's hand and swiftly walked to her office. They saw the tears.

Woody figured he'd best follow her, just in case…

Which left Nigel alone with his adoptee.

The black cat sat upon a large hand, calmly regarding his new owner. Nigel was in awe. The pictures hadn't done justice. In his hands he held a pure black cat, with a white patch on the chest. He stroked the little head, whereupon the sweet creature wagged it's tail for a moment, then latched onto the offending finger with teeth and claws bared. Nigel was still in awe. He had a real predator moving in with him. He was certain this little one had the soul of a great white tiger which had prowled the jungles of deepest Asia a thousand years ago. Perhaps, a cat who had been mummified and placed in a pharaoh's tomb in Egypt.

Bored that the hand stopped moving, Busch began climbing up Nigel's arm. He stopped on the shoulder, and began sniffing the interesting things there.

"See, I told you." Woody had returned with Jordan at his side. Her eyes were red, but she looked reasonably calm. "Busch is perfect for Nigel, they're bonding already."

Jordan managed a smirk. "You want to watch the pointy parts, he's a killer."

Nigel removed the 'killer' from his shoulder and regarded the golden eyes. "This lad and I are going to be best mates. Here, hold him for a second."

Woody held him a moment while Nigel dug into a bag on his desk. He stood with a black leather collar that had silver decorations on it. "These are ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. They spell out his name." He reverently placed the collar upon the cat. "You shall be known as Bes, Cat-headed God of Egypt."

The cat God of Egypt immediately sank his fangs into Nigel's hand, but released them quickly to attack the collar. His hind paws tried to get inside the thing. When that didn't work, he tried to chew at it.

Jordan was amazed. Nigel wasn't just a cat person, he was a feline worshiper. Her baby was going to be worshiped, idolized. She relaxed. Busch – or Cat-God Bes, or whatever – was the liveliest of the bunch. He'd been the first to leave the 'nest', the first to draw blood from Woody. He had climbed up the inside of Jordan's pant leg once. But when he was done his day's destruction, he was a sweet little thing. She should have seen it before – Nigel and Busch were perfect for each other.

"You'll have to get a bigger collar soon, he's growing fast." Nigel had already considered that.

"Have no fear, Luv, I've got the larger version on order. I had these custom made by a mate of mine. Real silver! He had to put a rush on this little one, but he owes me."

This was the easiest parting Jordan had experienced. She was still heart-broken, but observing this Busc… Bes and Nige were already hitting it off, she was happy for them both.

Woody observed, "They belong together. Look! He's sleeping on Nigel's shoulder! He never did that for us…"

Nigel's grateful eyes gazed upon Bes. "Thank you, Jordan." He looked at her. "Bless you for bringing this wonderful thing into my life."

"Nigel," she said softly, "Only you could make this into a deep, spiritual experience." She stood on tip-toe and kissed Nigel on the cheek, likewise kissing Busch good-bye.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I'm worried that this is getting really boring. These are just quiet moments in an everyday life. I personally find joy in the quiet moments, but they sure don't make for epic tales or grand adventures. I'm presently trying very hard to avoid a small mound of school work I have, paperwork to prove to the powers that be that I'm a competent professional. I wish they'd just take my word for it. So, here's my boring moment in the life of our four heroes, a work in procrastination…

* * *

Woody and Jordan lay in each other's arms. They were discovering how mid-pregnancy could be a very sexually active part of a woman's life. Jordan felt beautiful, and she was! Her hair was even silkier than usual, her skin glowed with life. Her eyes were so bright and happy – and all the hormones did a great job boosting her sexual response. Not to mention the extra cup-size…

The nausea seemed to have disappeared completely, a relief because women with her condition could very easily be in bed the whole nine months. She was still proudly keeping to her regular schedule. Problem was, she didn't get to see Woody as much as she'd like.

Then of course, she thought, when we do have an evening we're either making love or sleeping. Tonight saw them in bed at 9pm. Almost an hour later and they were preparing to settle in for the night. She wondered when they became such losers…

Right now, the happy couple was enjoying the sleepy warmth after delighting each other. Jordan's baby bump was now obvious, but everyone, especially Woody, thought it was absolutely gorgeous. He suddenly felt a soft push on his stomach, where the baby was lying between them. In amazement, he looked down.

"Jordan – did you see… I mean, you felt it, right?"

Her lazy eyes slipped open. "What?" She only knew that she was in her husband's arms, the cats were curling up at the foot of the bed, and the baby had moved. Wait…

"Woody – you felt that?"

His excited eyes were her response. She continued, a wry smirk on her lips, "Our son just booted you in the gut and you're happy." She gasped as the baby seemed to roll over, a little elbow or something ran from the left to the right side of her abdomen. Woody, still too happy to talk, had his hand over her tummy and he felt the whole thing. He'd felt little flutters and wiggles before, but this was just amazing.

Finally finding his voice, he said, "Our **daughter **did not kick me, she was reaching out to her father!" Woody promptly ignored the upper half of Jordan and started cooing at her stomach.

"Uh, Woods?" Jordan gently rapped on his head. "Hello? It's late, I'm tired, I work tomorrow and I need you to quit keeping the baby awake!"

He looked up at her, a bit disappointed, but resigned. "Just let me tell her good night!" Turning once again to Jordan's swollen abdomen, his face took on the most loving, caring look. Jordan had seen him look at her in a similar way, but he wasn't allowed to go all 'protective Daddy' on her.

"Good-night, princess! Daddy can't wait to meet you. You go to sleep now and let your Mommy rest, OK?" He gently kissed the part he thought was close to her head, and returned to his pillow.

Woody kissed his wife on the forehead, then on the tip of her nose, then he claimed her mouth. He wondered exactly how tired she really was…

Miller'd had enough sleep for the time being, and sat up to gaze at the surrounding landscape. She was the one they'd chosen to keep. She only differed from Lizzie in the pattern of black and orange that smattered the white fur. She was about half grown, still small enough to get into cupboards where Jordan did not particularly want cat paws to go. Miller couldn't figure out why her Mom's pets wouldn't let her stay in these awesome hidey-holes. Right now, she saw his hand moving around under the covers. Her eyes closed a bit, her butt started wiggling, when suddenly, she was spotted.

Since the incident when Lizzie had nearly wounded a very important part of Woody's anatomy, they kept a closer watch on where the cats were during important moments. Jordan was currently breathing very deeply as Woody's hands were once again discovering how much he loved her. He knew she was getting close to another release, the third tonight, when he eyed Miller preparing for launch. His foot shot under the covers, lifting her up, sending her gently but firmly toward the edge of the bed. He continued the loving attention to his wife, who didn't even realize the cats were anywhere near…

His foot kept moving under the covers, 'motivating' both Miller and Liz to proudly stumble to the edge of the bed, then jump down with almost identical chirrups. Lizzie immediately began washing her daughter.

The very thought! How could they evict us, she thought. After all, we're kind enough to allow those two to sleep in our bed, we are very patient when they do that baby-making – which confused Lizzie because there was already a baby. Pets were odd creatures. Her pride back in place, Liz sauntered out to her water bowl.

Jordan had reached the summit, once again, and was crying out her pleasure. Woody was pleased. He figured a 3:1 ratio was fair, after all, she had to do the labour and delivery. He'd take his one climax, never begrudge her three, and wish he could take the upcoming pain from her.

He lay silently beside her. She was trying to sleep, but once again, the baby was keeping her awake. He stroked her hair as they waited for her tight abdominal walls to relax and the baby to settle after all Mom's exercise. Pure bliss.

Right before they drifted off, his tired mind appreciated the early bed time. After his daughter was born they'd probably be more tired than normal.

If he only knew.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N – well, thanks to my reviewers who insist the small moments aren't boring. I guess not having to worry about ratings is part of the joy of fanfic!

I keep forgetting to disclaim any ownership of the intellectual property known as Crossing Jordan or the characters thereof. So, allow me to hereby disclaim any ownership, financial or otherwise, of said property. I just hope the real owners don't mind dedicated fans letting their imaginations run amok… and amok and amok and amok!

Virtual Season Seven is shaping up, due to premiere in 23 days. It's going to rock you! The scripts are done in real script format for your reading (virtual viewing) pleasure. We're hoping to have music and graphics… Countless hours are going into this. I think the result shows it. Drop by on September 30th, folkies! There are already goodies up – go check us out!

Alright, Here comes Lizzie.

Liz watched her pet sweep the floor. She kept a healthy distance from that broom thing, it was a very threatening creature. She couldn't understand why her Jordan felt the need to remove all their toys from the floor, all those dust-bunnies and bits of popcorn kept her and her daughter busy during the boring time of night, when their two pets tried to sleep. Liz and Miller kindly did their best to ensure Jordan and Woody didn't waste their whole night sleeping. There were important things to do, washing, running and jumping. Serious purr-time was being wasted in deep sleep – they clearly needed waking up.

Right now Lizzie was wondering why her Jordan was so… mobile. Liz sat proudly with her paws curled under her chest, eyes half closed as she gazed upon the apartment. Miller had found a little bit of plastic, it looked like a broken zip-tie, but 9½ -month-old Miller had clearly found a wonderful mouse-tail. Jordan hadn't settled down all afternoon. Lizzie tried to tell her that this close to a kitten's arrival, it was wise to sleep a lot. Suckling kittens was tiring work and Jordan needed to rest.

Jordan, on the other hand, had heard of the 'nesting instinct', and was busily trying to convince her child that it was time to be born. If she were being honest with herself, all she wanted to do was sleep, but she stubbornly continued to 'nest' hoping that somehow it would bring on labour. She had discovered the purpose of a long gestation period – it was to make a woman actually want to go into labour. This kid was being stubborn, two weeks past the due date and not a twinge of discomfort. Her cervix was a solid as a rock. She wondered how she'd gotten pregnant in the first place.

She still wanted to be at work, but the state had a policy that women in her area of work begin maternity leave no later than 37 weeks gestation (_A/N - probably not true, guys, but I need it for the story…_) So here she was. Tapping her fingers on the arm of the couch. The baby wasn't moving much anymore, there just wasn't any room left in there. She walked frequently, but even that was boring. She couldn't play with the cats because the baby was in the way.

One time, though, Miller suddenly attacked Jordan's tummy when the baby was 'reaching out'. Jordan couldn't believe the two were playing before the kid was even born – Miller kept her claws in, mostly, so Jordan let her pat at the baby's various gymnastic acrobatics.

That was the most exciting thing that had happened in weeks. The apartment was clean. Pristine, even. They had a cradle set up in the bedroom, a playpen/portable crib in the living room, packages of diapers, little newborn-size shirts and sweaters.

The phone rang. Jordan reluctantly answered it. She knew whoever it was would say…

Sure enough. "Jordan, you're_ still_ not in the hospital?"

"Hi, Dad, glad to hear from you, too." Her flat voice told him that she'd heard those words many, many times over the past week and a half.

"Sorry, Sweetheart, but your mother went early with both pregnancies and I just assumed…"

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm a Cavanaugh. Besides, Woody has told me a million times how he and Cal were both late babies. Lucky me."

"Well, you go get some rest, and don't forget to call me the moment…"

"Dad! I'll call you, OK? We're doing fine, damn bored but we're healthy and definitely not in labour."

He loved his daughter, but he did not trust her to call him in a timely fashion when the event began. Woody would call, but Jordan had him wrapped around her finger. Tight.

"That's my girl. You rest, you have no idea what's coming. Especially if the baby's anything like the pain-in-the-ass her mother was…"

"Gee, thanks."

"I mean it Jordan, you go rest. I'll get off the phone. Just call me the moment you start labour, I want to be at the hospital. Got that?"

"Got it. Goodbye, Grandfather!"

"Grandpa… I like that! Bye Jordan."

A few hours later, Emmy called to give her a few phone messages. She also voiced her surprise that Jordan was still pregnant. The messages were just from colleagues wishing her luck. Nothing to actually do about them. Damn it.

So it also began with the older lady from downstairs who brought up a load of laundry for her. Jordan had met her years ago, and Woody had struck a deal for her to bring the laundry up if he brought her coffee and muffins fresh from her favourite bakery every morning he was working. She would have brought the laundry up anyway, she loved a chance to gossip about the other tenants. And lately, her gossip was interspersed with liberal amounts of advise.

Today, she was full of ways to bring on labour. All of which Jordan had heard before.

"Believe me, hon, you got to have sex. I tell ya, it's the best, sure-fire way to get yerself into labour. Walkin' helps, castor oil is suppos'd to help, but sex, hon – that's the one does it every time."

"I know, I've heard it before but look at me, Ida!" Jordan did not exactly feel that she was a sex-kitten at the moment.

"Oh, hon, don't you worry, that man has it bad for you! All you got to do is to look at him real deep and bat yer eyes real slow, and wham! Ya got 'im in bed. Not many women got good ones like yer Officer! My Harold, now, he was a good one too. 36 years driving that city bus he did and I'm here to tell ya he was their best. I never had any trouble getting him into bed, I tell ya. And with our two, it was real hard sex 't brought 'em both into the world. 'Course I never told 'em that, but I'm tellin' you, hon…"

Jordan sighed as Ida finally took a breath and a sip of her iced tea. She actually enjoyed the company. Ida wasn't the most educated companion, but she was every bit as intelligent as the people Jordan worked with on a daily basis. She also had the wisdom that comes, if you let it, from a long, successful marriage, two children, several grandchildren and finally, widowhood.

Jordan looked doubtfully at her belly. "Sex, huh?"

"Yes, bless ya, hon, it's about sex! 'Course when we were having our two blessin's, polite company didn't talk 'bout sex, but we still knew the tricks."

Jordan was somehow not surprised by this.

"I tell ya, hon, women stick together! We gotta know the important ways to get by, and back in the day, well, we had to talk about somethin' when the men was at work, now didn't we?" She smiled with a twinkle in her friendly eye.

Jordan stifled a yawn. She wasn't bored at all, just exhausted.

"Now, look at what I done! Ida, I tell ya, ya got to learn when to shut up! And when is now!" She put the iced tea glasses in the sink, ignored Jordan's protests that she was fine as she spread a blanket over her.

"Believe me, sweetheart, ya need yer rest! Now sleep, get that hunk of a man of yers into bed tonight, and y'll have that little one in yer arms by this time tomorrow! Look at yer belly – all flat on top. It's the 'teacup' belly, I'm tellin' ya, that means it's time!"

Stopping to scratch Lizzie's head on the way out the door, Ida blessed Jordan several times, told her she was praying for a quick labour, and admonished her to ensure a phone call when the 'blessed event' arrived.

The next thing Jordan knew, her husband was kneeling in front of her. Unfortunately for him, the first words he said were, "Still pregnant, huh?"

Though she looked him in the eye with a murderous glare, she had enough restraint to say, "Ida says we have to have really good sex. Then we'll have the baby this time tomorrow."

Woody was confused by the vast difference between her facial expression and her actual words. By now, however, confusion was a normal part of his everyday life. He struggled to decide the best course of action this time…

"But Doctor Wiseman said she'd induce you Monday if you hadn't started labour yet."

"You don't want to make love to me, do you?"

What was it with late pregnancy and dangerously loaded questions?

"Of course I do, Jordan, you are the hottest woman I've ever seen, pregnant or not! But are you sure you'd be OK, I mean, I don't want to hurt you… or our daughter."

They hadn't asked the technician what the sex of the child was, but they both had an opinion.

"Our son'll be fine. Ida says both of hers were born after hard sex."

"What the hell do you two talk about?"

"I told you, hard sex."

Woody shook his head. "OK, I'm just going to not think about that… How about I make you scrambled eggs and toast, then we can have this great sex, then we could have some of that chicken stew Lily brought yesterday."

Woody knew about the 'frequent, small meals' an extremely pregnant woman would need as the stomach was squashed by baby. He also made sure there were lots of TUMS around for her heartburn. A half cup of water gave her heartburn these days. Anything he could do, he did. Because, ultimately, he was pretty much just the arm-chair quarter back for this one.

"Wow. Scrambled eggs, sex, chicken stew. How could a girl wish for any more romance?" Jordan smirked at him. It was a great idea, actually. She was hungry, and when she kept those meals frequent and small, the heartburn was minimized. Not eliminated, mind you.

That's what the TUMS were for. Sometimes Jordan couldn't believe they'd actually done this on purpose…

A/N – so if you're interested in an awesome M-rated story about pregnancy sex, check out Nynaeve1723's story called Love's Labors. I am a firm believer in avoiding re-inventing the wheel, and Nyn has a really loving, hot story which is exactly what I would want to put in here. That and I'm not comfortable writing that stuff, yet, (if ever…) but anyway check out Nyn's story. Check out all her stuff, actually, if you haven't. You'll be very glad you did!


	9. Chapter 9

Lizzie knew when it was time. So did Miller, actually. They were both acting strangely, sniffing around Jordan and putting paws on her in some sort of cat-birthing-rite. Of course neither of their pets really noticed, they were stupid sometimes, Lizzie thought.

She almost felt the pain in Jordan's back. It was just mild discomfort, but Lizzie knew the kitten was coming. Sad that it was only one kitten, a girl kitten. Especially with all that baby-making her two pets did! But one kitten was better than no kitten.

Miller wondered if they'd keep this kitten, or if they'd give it away. She liked being the only kid in the house, but if they kept this one she was sure she could maintain dominance. She'd been second only to her black brother in the litter, and he was gone. Well, he did come to visit sometimes, but now it was a matter for hissing, not family reunions.

The pets had done the baby-making again last night, and it was pretty loud. Then they fell asleep, woke up and ate, and went back to bed. Lizzie noticed that they'd forgotten to put the leftover stew in the fridge – aha! With a kitten coming who knew when Jordan would have time to feed her. She checked to make sure they were sleeping, noticed another mild contraction that Jordan slept through, then hopped up onto her kitchen counter. Plastic lids were no match for Lizzie. Soon she and Miller were enjoying a lovely meal.

They both froze and looked at the bedroom door. Sure enough, there was Jordan. Liz knew the contraction she was having now was a serious one. That little girl kitten was going to be here in an hour or two. What was Jordan doing there? She should be lying in her birthing-nest! Hmmm, she hadn't noticed that they were on the counter. Maybe if they stood really still, and didn't make eye contact…

When the pain subsided, she turned around and went to get Woody. Liz and Miller returned to their wonderful late-night snack. Clearly their presence on the counter was sanctioned because of the new circumstances. Miller wondered when the baby would arrive, and Liz explained how to tell these things. She wasn't sure if people knew how to do that, but they both knew people were stupid. Endearing, but stupid.

Suddenly both pets were aimlessly wandering around. Woody grabbed a suitcase, Jordan stopped, put her arms around his neck and started to breathe slowly. Lizzie told Miller how that was a good idea when kittens were coming. Got to get the air to the little ones. When the pain passed, they grabbed coats, keys from beside the cats on the counter and they left.

They left! Where on earth would they be going with a kitten coming in less than an hour and a half? Maybe they had a birthing-nest somewhere else.

Full and comfy, the pair walked over to the sink where there was some water in a low dish. They drank deeply, and then hopped down. They snuggled up together on the abandoned but still-warm bed, and after a good mutual bath, fell asleep. It would be good to have another girl in the house. Liz wondered how long her Jordan would keep her new kitten in this somewhere else birthing-nest.

Across town, in a police car with full lights and siren, Jordan breathed through another contraction. Five minutes apart and strong, she knew things were going quickly. Suddenly her eyebrows knit and her mouth popped open.

"Woody, what were the cats doing on the counter…"

A/N

I know, a short one, but this one just hit me and I wanted to get it posted. BTW, I don't own CJ or the characters, but I'm working for Nyn and her coup… (VS7!). Stay tuned, I feel the baby coming on soon…


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Well, I own nothing but the fuzzy cat butt that's sitting between me and my keyboard, getting fur in between the keys. The story's mine, it that's worth anything...

September 30th, VS7! Yay!

It's been thirteen years since I felt a contraction but it's something you don't forget. Here you go!

* * *

The pain started like a slow tightening, hardly pain at all. Then, as muscles got tighter and tighter, it felt like internal structures would implode. Then, after an eternity of one minute, the tightness slowly relaxed, and blood started to flow and Woody's hand returned to it's normal pink.

After the first 'real' contraction, he took off his wedding ring. He was surprised there wasn't blood dripping down his hand. No one had warned him that labour increased a woman's hand strength to approximate that of the world's strongest weight lifter. Someone should have told him!

First time mothers took a little longer, on average, to deliver. Jordan was not average. Four good solid hours of labour, and they were already into the birthing bed, getting ready to deliver. Fully dilated, effaced, and all the other good stuff.

Jordan, of course, had decided on a natural childbirth. No epidurals for her! She'd had enough medication recently and didn't want any more. Woody had whole-heartedly agreed at the time, but now he wasn't so sure. Partly uncomfortable watching her in so much pain, and partly suffering each time she reached for his hand – he figured at the very least **he** deserved a couple of aspirin. Jordan was going to break his fingers, he knew it!

Right now, Jordan was silent. Her eyes were closed, and she was working, even between contractions. Woody now realized why it's called labour. Coping with pain, preparing for pain, recovering from pain, all the while ensuring adequate oxygen supply for self and for babe, mentally preparing for motherhood, this was real work. Carole, the OBGYN was in the traditional place, fussing around waiting for the next contraction. A nurse, (Woody was thankful Bubblehead worked on another floor…) acted as intermediary between Jordan's top half and bottom half. She was preparing a little warming table… extraordinary! His daughter would be right there, any time now…

Damn. Here came the next one.

Jordan's thoughts were more simple. She was focused, she was in pain.

OK, now your focal point – Lizzie's paw under the door that first day… Lizzie's white paw… Breathe, paw, breathe, paw, breathe (where the hell is Woody's ha… OK.) paw, breathe, paw, (I want to push! Did I say that out loud?) breathe, paw, breathe, paw, white paw, paw, don't forget to breathe! (What? Did she say… YES. Next time…) OK, we're going down. Paw, breathe, paw, breathe, paw, breathe, Lizzie, and Miller, and Bes so happy at Nigel's place, and Nigel sure did love that cat from the first moment and now it was obvious that they were a pair for the rest of their natural lives…

OK, I'll push next time… I said I'll push! Oh, I didn't say it, I just thought it… Get your focus back, girl, Lizzie's paw, sunshine. Her white paw… I love that cat… and her little paws… OK, here we go… breathe, paw, breathe, paw, sit up, breathe paw breathe paw, and PUSH ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN breathe paw paw paw, breathe breathe, and PUSH ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX exhale quick and breathe in and SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN and one more time PUSH ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN exhale and breathe and breathe and Lizzie's little white paw and her paws are so white and soft but they can sure cause trouble like when they opened the window and got herself knocked up... She knew I was pregnant, didn't she? And she knew when I was going into labour, she was around me tonight, she was acting differently, she knew… like I do – two more pushes, that's it. If she was here she'd be sitting on that TV, the warm spot, looking at me like I should stop making such a fuss. Then when the baby's here she'd curl up with us…

Woody was trying to murmur calming, supportive words, but Jordan was completely in her own world. Every now and then he heard her talking to Lizzie, but not to him. That was OK. Getting focus was what they'd practiced, and if his hand wasn't exactly where it needed to be, she was clearly not amused. The nurse could be on the other side, or not, but Woody couldn't leave his post. Not that he wanted to – except he thought maybe he could get a mannequin's hand…

Jordan started to breathe deeply again. The monitor indicated a contraction, he heard her breathe out, "Last time." Carole hadn't said the baby was crowning, how could she know this was the last one? OK, here came the hand. He started doing the breathing along with Jordan. He counted out her pushes…

Carole said excitedly, "Excellent, Jordan, the head is seriously crowning, that was fast! Now give us one more good push this time…"

Jordan did as she was told. Woody thought that was odd, this was the one time she listened to someone's orders. They were counting, and on SIX, Carole said, "The head's out! Look at all that dark hair, Irish baby! Pant for a minute, sweetie, don't push, I want to suction the mouth…"

Jordan looked at her as if she'd grown a third head. Woody thought that Jordan wasn't going to listen to this one, and sure enough, she didn't. With one huge push, Carole found herself holding a pink, healthy little girl.

"Congratulations, Mom and Dad. It's a girl!"

Woody immediately began crying. Not an ugly sobbing, but an attractive teary-eyed affair. He gazed at his daughter, squirming around on her Mom's belly. When Carole offered him scissors, he'd forgotten what he was supposed to do. She showed him where to cut, and he freed his firstborn child to the world.

Jordan, on the other hand, was recovering from the hardest work she'd ever done. She was tired, relieved, and mentally drained. One hand covered her baby protectively, half open eyes saw the messy black hair. The nurse pronounced that their baby was a perfect ten. She wasn't crying, but she was definitely vocalizing, already communicating to the world in very clear terms. Jordan finally smiled. This was her daughter, she'd never let anyone see her cry, (well, almost never), but she'd sure as hell let everyone know when things were going wrong.

Woody and Jordan had stayed in physical contact since the delivery. One hand or the other was on her, or she was reaching out to him with her free hand – they were both deep in their own moment, but the never once lost contact with each other. Now, when their dearest one was released from the womb, cut from the cord, and seeming to root around for a snack, they looked into each others eyes. Smiles of proud joy mirrored each other. Their faces slowly and joyfully moved in for their first kiss as parents when…

Their baby decided to learn how to cry. So, Jordan thought, maybe she will let people see her cry. That's good, more healthy.

Woody and Jordan kissed anyway, then set about the next hurdle – breast feeding.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N – Well, I think there's one more chapter after this one, then one more sequel. At least that's what I have planned.

One never knows when one's muse is a chubby little cat who sucks up to one's husband more than to oneself. (Beastly traitor)

I don't own Woody or Jordan, or Garret, or Crossing Jordan. This guy in LA owns them all, and he's so distracted by his new toy that he doesn't care about us anymore. Have no fear - there are Fanfic writers who care!

And VS7 writers who really care. Imagine reading a script of a beautiful CJ story, lovingly written, re-written, beta-read, checked for continuity and accurate characterization, all done by people who are receiving no payment whatsoever. We're including doctored pictures and some music, too.

We are all amateur writers of fiction (some have published non-fic). Amateur is a word which derives from the latin amator, meaning lover. Therefore we are lovers of writing, lovers of CJ, lovers of working hard for no money... well, writing and CJ anyway. We premiere on September 30th, we've kept it to a PG14 rating. Find us at CrossingJordanEncyclopedia dot com. Feel the Love!

* * *

"You are insane. Completely cuckoo!"

"It's called 'tradition'. 'Looking to the past', 'honouring your parents'…"

"Hillary Bird Hoyt? In your dreams!"

This had been gist of their naming argument all day. She refused to allow her daughter to be saddled with a dumb name.

"Come on, Jordan, remember when we first met? It was over that lady robber in the bank. Remember what you said? You said 'Not Bill, Hillary.' My parents can't be here to enjoy her, so this would be a way to connect her with her family and our first meeting."

Jeez, this give and take crap was getting annoying. Why couldn't she see, it was perfect?

She had her fingers over her eyes, getting more annoyed by the second.

"Bird?"

"It's pretty. Like her. And you…"

"Forget the suck-up routine, Hoyt. I won't name my child after a dead bank robber."

"You named your cats after an axe-murderer and six alcoholic beverages."

The look on her face communicated the poor timing of that comment.

He sighed. The baby was sleeping in a bassinette beside the hospital bed her parents were sitting on. Jordan threw herself back onto the raised half of the bed, exasperated. Woody absent-mindedly stroked her leg. It had been two days, and they were almost ready to go home. Still, no name for their little one. He needed to give his daughter this key part of her identity.

His frustration was clear in the tired voice. "Do you have any suggestions? Or are you just going to shoot me down again and again?" She didn't like Barbara, Jackie, or Nancy. She hated Hillary. And he knew better than to mention Betty or Edith again.

"I figure I'll just shoot you down. Until you get it right, anyway." Her eyes were closed in exhaustion. Recovering from childbirth and nursing a hungry newborn was tiring work. She felt no urgency to name her child. A few days wouldn't make any difference, and this was a decision she wanted to make carefully.

The nameless little one started to fuss a little. Woody rose and picked up his daughter. He was again enamoured by her beautiful blue eyes. She didn't seem hungry, she wasn't desperately screaming. (She was good at screaming). She was just wiggling around quietly, eyes peacefully open.

Woody sank down into the uncomfortable armchair. He held the baby in one arm as he put a pillow on his lap, the way a nurse had shown him. He rested her little upper body on the pillow, and lovingly took in her gaze. He knew from his reading that her visual acuity was best at around 10 to 12 inches, so he leaned in. Her movements were random squirms, not organized or purposeful. He knew better than to expect a smile, but he didn't care.

Jordan, meanwhile, had actually drifted off. Baby was demanding to be fed every three hours, sometimes even more frequently. Her milk was just coming in, and she felt like a mother cow. Her breasts were huge and uncomfortable. Plenty of food for baby, plenty of discomfort for Mama. She vaguely felt jealous of Lizzie again. She didn't get double-d cups! And she could sleep while she nursed. Jordan sure couldn't. Nursing was going well, she couldn't understand why some women had trouble, but she still envied Lizzie.

They were asleep, all three, when Garret arrived. Woody had returned the baby to her bassinette, and fell asleep in that uncomfortable chair. Jordan hadn't moved an inch since she'd spoken to Woody. He looked at them, with the love of a grandfather. Tears came to his eyes as he thought of Abby, his flesh-and-blood daughter whom he hadn't seen in nearly a year.

He placed a small gift on the night stand.

Garret knew how important sleep was, and quietly let himself out again. He returned to the morgue with a peaceful story.

When Jordan awoke later, the baby was working up a steam. So far she was just fussing but the scream would be soon. Jordan looked around for Woody, but he was nowhere. She moved over and took her baby in her arms. Trying to remember which side she'd nursed last, she settled down to feed the starving child.

A few minutes into the late night snack, Daddy re-appeared.

"Hey! Good morning – I mean good evening. You two look pretty comfortable."

Jordan's happy eyes met his. "This nursing thing is good drugs."

"I think the baby-gift fairy visited." He gave the small parcel to Jordan.

She read the card and smiled. "Garret. What the hell would he buy for a baby?"

She ripped the paper off and her smile got wider. Garret had bought their daughter a pair of tiny drumsticks. "Great. Noisemakers. She's only two days old."

Woody looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. "I got an idea, so I ran down to the computer in the lobby. Remember Millie?"

Jordan made the shape of a gun with her fingers and 'shot' her husband down, one more time.

"No, I don't mean Millard, that's a boy's name, but I Googled Millard's wife's name. Guess what it was?"

"Not Hillary, or Edith? Or Nancy, or Jackie?"

"No, Millard's wife was Abagail." He paused and picked up the drumsticks.

"Abagail." Jordan looked at Woody, then the drumsticks. Then she looked at her daughter again. "Do you think Garret would mind?" She already knew the answer to that one. "Do you think Abby would mind?"

"We can ask. I also checked Calvin Coolidge's wife. She was Anna Grace. If we want to avoid confusion we could call her Grace Abagail."

Jordan had to take a moment to switch the baby to the other side. As she settled against her mother's breast, she seemed to sigh and visibly relaxed. "No, Abagail Grace sounds better. We'll call her Gail."

She paused, looked just a little dubious again and asked, "Did you look up what Abagail means?"

"Father of Exultation."

With a thoughtful look Jordan considered this. She'd started to speak when a loud squishing sound announced that little Agabail Grace had filled her diapers. A spark shone in Jordan's eye as she released little Abagail from her breast and handed her to Daddy. "Here you go, Exultant Father."

A yellow stain started to soak through the tiny sleeper legs. He spoke to his daughter. "Gail. Yep, I think it's Gail. And I think your Mom just dumped a poopy baby on me!"

"I get hard labour, you get poopy diapers." Beat. "I win."

He rolled his eyes and wondered if she'd ever stop bringing that one up.

He took his soggy child over to the bassinet and took some time changing her. As soon as the diaper came off she wet the blankets she was lying on. Her Daddy was briefly glad she had female plumbing, or he'd have had a face full of baby urine.

Jordan was asleep again. Dreaming of a blue eyed nine year old girl named Gail, running around a tiny apartment being chased by a calico cat.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N - So, kiddos, here's the last chapter in the latest part of the Lizzie series. There's another bit forming in my mind, but it'll have to wait until after I've got more work done on VS7 things, plus I'm working on a writing contest here in a local newspaper, not to mention the rest of my life (teaching, mothering, being a wife, and sometimes I swipe the dust with a finger and feel momentarily guilty.)

Don't forget our screenplays over at VS7! Sunday nights at 10 EST! Love you all. God Bless.

* * *

Jordan relaxed in her bed, baby Gail at her side. She realized it was hormones and chemical reactions in her body that made her feel so good, but that didn't matter. Even at 3:AM she loved it. In fact, truth be told, she preferred that feeding to the others. Gail was starving, Jordan's breasts were engorged, and they were both comfy and sleepy on the couch together. Often the two 'owners' of the home joined them, snuggling up for warmth. 

She could feel the purr on her stomach, adding to the overall bliss of happy motherhood.

Then she woke up. No baby. Soaking wet on her left side. Cat on her stomach, kneading her chest. Jordan squawked and pushed whatever cat it was away. The cat had triggered her milk reflex – she was soaked.

It occurred to her that she had tried to feed the cat…

Then she tried to think about something else. She wished she could crawl back into that dream.

"Whasss goin onn?" Woody surfaced from his deep sleep. Jordan and Gail weren't the only ones without much sleep. With his two day paternity leave, he not only had to try to support his wife and baby, he had to get up and go to work. He'd never felt so tired. Ever.

"I'm just nursing one of the cats." She was exhausted, but Woody could have sworn she said she was nursing a cat.

"What the hell…"

"Miller, or Lizzie, was doing that kneading thing. I'm a freaking cow."

He still didn't totally understand, but at this time of night he thought it would be best to leave it alone. "What time is it?"

"Midnigh'."

"So we've been asleep for two hours. Let's try to catch another hour before the screech owl wakes up."

He thought he heard a mumble or something. Jordan slept.

It seemed like 13 seconds later that the beloved screech owl screeched. Jordan was up instantly, wondered why her nightie was damp, and went to get Gail. On the way she nearly tripped over Miller and shoo-ed Lizzie off the kitchen counter. The fact that Lizzie didn't get down passed her notice.

Jordan sat in the rocking chair this evening, holding the starving child to her breast. She expertly got the baby attached, and she waited for the rush of endorphins. The first few minutes were all about filling up an empty little stomach, so not much communication happened. Then when the edge was off Gail's painful hunger, she looked up at her Mommy.

And her Mommy was staring at her, with a half smile and really bad hair. Her eyes had dark rings under them. Jordan had wondered if you counted the rings could you tell how many days she hadn't slept? But she still smiled at her little miracle.

Then the little miracle smiled back. Jordan's half closed eyes didn't catch up to what was happening, she was just enjoying a moment with her daughter, when she saw the milk pouring all over the place. Just because Babe decided to take a break didn't mean her milk took a break…

A quick yellow-green diaper change and then Gail was on the other side. The diapers were getting much more interesting at this stage, with baby rice cereal adding to the mix. This time, Jordan had remembered to pull the jammies out of the way for when the baby watered the change table. This time, of course, she didn't pee.

The sweet-smelling, smiley baby was slowing down. Her nursing amounted to a few nuks, then dozing off a bit. Jordan kept trying to awaken the child, to fill that tummy as much as possible. This was in hopes of getting more than four hours of sleep. Thus far, it had been just a hope, but some day she'd sleep again. At least so the doctor said.

A few moments later, she was carefully laying Gail down in her crib… hoping against hope not to waken the sleeping baby in the process. She stood frozen, not wanting to get back into bed before Gail was really asleep.

Slipping into the bed beside Woody, she remembered why her nightgown was damp. Stupid cat! There was one purring on her feet right now… or was it two cats? She should change her nightgown…

Jordan awoke feeling better than she had in months… years! She stretched, and snuggled against her husband. Then a moment of panic – what time was it?

Oh God, no! A baby who hadn't slept for more than three hours at a stretch…

She'd slept for 7 hours!

"Woody!" Her panic had him awake instantly.

"What?"

"Seven hours, she hasn't woken me up – what's wrong?"

Woody was out of bed instantly. Jordan's breasts were painfully engorged, her eyes filled with fear. Images of every SIDS baby she had autopsied flashed in front of her… She was frozen in place.

Not Gail!

(A/N: I seriously considered stopping here for a new chapter, but I need to finish this and you guys would have hunted me down… so on with the show!)

In less than a minute Woody was back, holding a wiggly little girl.

"Well, Mommy, she just needed a sleep-in today!" He looked to his relieved wife. "She had to learn how to sleep at some point."

The wiggly little girl made an angry face and started sucking on her fist. Jordan was completely relieved, and suddenly aware of how wonderful seven hours of sleep felt.

Gail snuggled between her parents, completely ravenous and very serious about eating. Woody was relieved he didn't have to work for another twelve hours as he held his wife and daughter. Liz and Miller curled up together at the end of the bed.

Jordan looked at the idyllic scene and said, "If we looked any more cute I'd vomit."

Woody rolled his eyes and settled down comfortably.

Lizzie was quietly explaining to Miller how to escape through the window. She wanted to become a grandmother…

The End.


End file.
